Wedlocked
Chapter 14: A Change of Plans
The Great Hall was as loud as ever. Students laughed and shouted across tables to one another, discussing the coming Hogsmeade weekend and fast-approaching Quidditch season. Hermione was thankful she was no longer of any interest to anyone. Her return to school had been relatively uneventful, with only a minimum of whispering when the teachers started referring to her as 'Mrs Black' instead of 'Miss Granger'. With each subsequent weekend, more and more seventh and sixth year girls were being referred to by new last names, so Hermione was hardly special in that respect. The only difference that she could see was that she was not flaunting her marriage as the others did, showing off their rings and photographs of their weddings, talking endlessly about their husbands and how wonderful it was to be married.
Aside from the new name and address, nothing had changed for Hermione. It was a relief.
Post arrived as it always did, an owl dropping an envelope before her. She tore into it, eager for what her parents had to say.
Hermione snorted at the letter. "Apparently my mother has taken to calling Sirius 'that husband of yours'," she told the curious Ginny. She continued reading the letter until a cheer rose from several older students throughout the hall. "What's that about?"
"Hermione, look," Harry said worriedly as he pushed the Daily Prophet into her hands.
The headline ran: 'Marriage Law Amended!'
She scanned the article quickly, searching for a reason why the news might have created such an enthusiastic outcry.
'Due to the hasty marriages of convenience many witches and wizards have entered into because of Law 65,298-1/3, commonly known as the "Marriage Law," the Ministry has elected to add an amendment. Under this new amendment, couples bonded after the passing of Law 65,298-1/3 are now required to consummate their marriage on a bi-weekly basis. According to Warwick Whyte, Director of the Department of Marital Duties and Affairs at the Ministry of Magic, "The reason for the law is to create a larger and more diverse wizarding community. Bonded couples who skirt their responsibility in producing wizarding children ought to be carted off to Azkaban for their disservice to our community." Couples affected by this new change will be contacted via Owl Post.'
"Bugger," Hermione said. So much for the comfortable arrangement she had with Sirius. They had not so much as brushed up against one another since their hands were bound, except for when she slapped him for hiding the Kama Sutra inside her copy of Hogwarts: A History. She hadn't even seen him since that Sunday almost three weeks ago.
Dozens more owls soared silently in through the high window, circling the Great Hall and dropping letters before older students. A particularly self-important-looking owl swooped down low and dropped its letter in Hermione's lap, adding a sharp and disapproving click of its beak for good measure. She could clearly make out the Ministry's emblem embedded in the wax seal, and she knew this was to do with the amendment and her 'hasty marriage of convenience'. Her hands actually shook as she opened the letter and began to read the official order from the Department of Marital Duties and Affairs, the date and deadline which they had given her.
The plate before her vanished, taking her uneaten breakfast with it. She did not care; her appetite had gone with the reading of the article. The scroll now resting before her was far more welcome than the now-vanished toast had been, for she knew that looping script anywhere. She tore away the ribbon and read the brief letter, thinking it would be a reassurance not to worry, that the Headmaster had the matter in hand. It did not.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"He wants to meet with me tonight about the amendment," she said, glumly, slumping in her seat even as cries of joy continued to ring out around her. "I hate Voldemort."
oOo
At quarter after nine, Hermione trudged the long route from Gryffindor Tower to the Headmaster's office, dreading what she would hear when she got there. Just as in July, she saw no way around The Bloody Law.
"Come," Dumbledore spoke, his door opening on its own as she approached. He gestured for her to sit, which she did grudgingly, and offered her tea and a biscuit. Polite formality and ceremony were not what she wanted from the old wizard right now. She wanted answers, promises, something to pin her hopes on since she had nothing of her own anymore. Instead she found herself waiting. Painful seconds ticked past at a spitefully slow rate while the Headmaster said nothing.
Finally the fireplace sputtered, the flames glowing vibrant green and erupting into a very irate Sirius Black. "What the fuck are they playing at?" he demanded, throwing a letter down onto Dumbledore's desk. Neither of them had to look to know it was a duplicate of the Ministry letter that she had received that morning.
"Calm yourself, Sirius," Dumbledore soothed.
"I will not calm myself!" he kicked a chair angrily before dropping into it to brood and shout some more. "They've given us a deadline. A fucking deadline… literally!"
Hermione had seen the date printed in the letter, read the day and month so many times that the shock had worn off. They had until the end of the month, midnight on the thirty-first of October, to fulfil their marital obligations. That gave them thirteen days before a Ministry official came knocking at their door to cart them off to Azkaban or to make them to do their duty under duress. It was disgusting, she agreed, though she wasn't going to start shouting about it. She was far from pleased about the whole thing, but to go ranting and swearing around the Headmaster's office seemed excessive even to her, the girl who broke every dish in Sirius's kitchen on their wedding day.
As it was, his vehement protest stirred the lingering feeling of unease left in her from when her front teeth were too large and her hair too wide. She felt as though Sirius's issue with the amendment lay not in the deadline for fornication but in the person with whom he was forced to do it.
"I have been sending letters to every willing eye at the Ministry since the news arrived this morning, and more than a few unwilling ones, as well," Dumbledore said to appease the incensed man. "There is nothing they can do, I'm afraid. Any protest you mount will result in a void of your marriage vows and you will both be remanded to Azkaban. Were that to happen, Mrs Black would be as good as Voldemort's."
"Bastards," Sirius spat and looked over at her. "Don't you have anything to say?"
"Well…" she began and had to stop to keep from squeaking under the intensity of his gaze. "Could we maybe trick them somehow? They have a country filled with newlyweds; surely, they can't keep track of all of them."
Sirius looked hopefully to Dumbledore, but the man simply shook his head. "You forget, my dear, that you are the sole reason for this law being passed," the ancient wizard said. "Since Voldemort could not steal you through marriage to one of his followers, he is now trying to do so through Azkaban. Of all those married under this new law, you are the only two they intend to watch."
"That is just creepy," Sirius shivered.
"Sorry," she muttered. "This is all my fault. You're right; I should've just stayed in school."
"If you had, I would be dead twice over by now," he said, ill-timed mirth touching his voice. "I'm not complaining."
"You were a second ago," she reminded him, barely managing to contain her bitterness.
"Not about having to marry you, I wasn't."
"No," she agreed. "Just about having to sleep with me."
He frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but the bored voice of his ancestor filled the room and prevented his rebuttal. "Will you kindly keep your quarrelling in the privacy of your home where it belongs? Blacks do not air their dirty linen in public," Phineas Nigellus Black lectured and set his hard eyes onto Hermione. "And, much as it sickens me, you are a Black now. Do try to behave as one."
Instinct or experience had Sirius stepping in before Hermione could speak her mind to the painting or worse. "Shut up," he told the portrait and turned to Dumbledore. "So what's left?"
"Nothing," said the Headmaster.
"What?" Mr and Mrs Black shouted together.
"You always have ideas!" Hermione insisted.
"The Ministry are idiots!" Sirius waved a condescending hand. "There has to be a way around them."
"Not with Lord Voldemort pulling their strings, I'm afraid," he shook his head. "Puppets they may be, but puppets with the power to detain you and your wife long enough to see you into the hands of Dementors and her into those of Death Eaters."
Sirius could not disguise the fear of meeting the Dementors again, but he muttered a curse under his breath all the same.
"Sorry," Hermione sighed despondently.
"Sirius, would you be so kind as to see your wife safely back to Gryffindor Tower?" Dumbledore requested. "It is past curfew and I have quite a few more things to attend to."
Hermione was too depressed to bother mentioning that she was a Prefect and, therefore, required no adult supervision to keep her out of trouble with Filch. Although, given the fact that she had rarely been left alone in the castle since Malfoy's attack in September, she suspected Sirius was there to guard her against more than just the cranky old caretaker. She was nothing but a burden, it seemed. "Sorry," she muttered again as they walked.
"Stop apologising already," he growled. "It's too late to complain anyway."
"Hasn't stopped you," she observed.
"I'm different."
"That you are," she agreed. "So what are we going to do?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "What can we do?"
She considered the options, already few and all denied by Dumbledore; if he felt certain they had no remaining choices, then she knew he was right. They had to follow The Bloody Law or everything that had been done so far would have been for nothing. Sirius would be back in Azkaban and she would be under the Imperius Curse, bowing at Voldemort's feet.
The very idea made her shudder.
"Here," Sirius said, dropping his jacket onto her shoulders.
Engulfed in warm leather, she looked over at him. Sirius Black, tall and handsome. Standing beside him, wearing his too-large jacket, she felt like a child. She was someone in need of looking after, not someone he wanted. Quite frankly, she didn't give a damn if Sirius wanted her. Were it not for The Bloody Law, she could have lived the rest of her life without worrying whether Sirius would ever want to sleep with her.
"Stupid Bloody Law," she snarled.
"No arguments here, pet."
They were nearing Gryffindor Tower; she could see the staircase that would lead them up to the portrait of the rotund woman who guarded the entrance. They had been walking for nearly fifteen minutes and had made no headway in solving their problem. She stopped, not wanting to discuss their forced sex life in front of the gossipy portrait. "So what happens now?"
"I was aiming to get drunk myself," Sirius said.
She stamped her foot and winced as she imagined how childish it made her seem. "I'm not joking!"
"Nor am I," he said, though a smile was pulling at his mouth. "I've been known to make some very poor choices when I'm drunk – just ask Remus."
"I'll pass."
He smiled at her reply but managed to force himself back to soberness before he continued, "More than half of the shagging I've done was done dead drunk. It's nothing to be proud of, I know, but it's the sad fact of the matter."
"If this is meant to make sense…"
"Hermione," said the man earnestly, "I've slept with my fair share of women, only two of which I thought I might love. I'm not foolish enough to think you're the same."
She blushed at the odd compliment he was paying her. "So, your point…?"
"My point," he smiled, "is that since I've slept with so many women I don't love and was drunk while doing it, if I expect you to sleep with me… I'd better get you pissed beyond reason."
The girl just stared at him, unsure whether to slap him or laugh. He was being perfectly serious in his proposal, which was oddly considerate of her personal views on sex. She really was not the sort to go sleeping with anyone who looked at her with a passing interest. It was by far the most respectful suggestion he could have made, strange as it was.
"So what do you say?" he grinned. "Next weekend – you, me, a bottle of Ogden's Finest?"
She snorted. "That is the worst pickup line ever."
"It worked once," he defended. "But you're my wife, I'm not supposed to need any pickup lines for you."
"Doesn't mean I don't appreciate the effort," she laughed. "And I do. Thank you."
He smiled and draped an arm over her shoulder as they strolled the rest of the way to Gryffindor Tower. "I'll see if I can't find some more appropriate pickup lines for next time," he promised.
"Good," she nodded. "I will not have used pickup lines."
"Perfectly reasonable," he agreed.
They were standing before the Fat Lady, who looked ready to flee her frame. Sirius had not been particularly gentle with her canvas the last time they met, and she had not yet forgiven him for the trauma she had suffered. "Password?" she asked in a panicked squawk.
"Semper mea," Hermione said and bit her lip to keep from laughing as the woman threw her frame wide and ran to safety in a portrait too high for Sirius to reach.
"Goodnight," Hermione said and stepped toward the entrance.
Quicker than thought, Sirius reached out and pulled her against his mouth. It was like their wedding day all over again, his abrupt closing of the gap between them shocking her into compliance. Unlike their wedding day, however, Sirius let his tongue slip over her lips, teasing at the miniscule gap he found there until she let him in. Oh, she had been right to say he was better than Viktor. He was better by far, so much better that she didn't want him to stop and without meaning to she wrapped her fingers in his hair to keep him from escaping.
Despite her valiant efforts, Sirius pulled back and whispered against her lips. "Goodnight, pet."
"Mm-hm," she said and stood stunned on the spot as he left.
"Oh my god!" Lavender squealed and ran from her hiding place in the shadows. "That was the hottest thing ever! I just left Michael and he didn't even kiss me at all, let alone snog me senseless. I'm so jealous. You are so lucky!"
The giddy girl's words and presence sent Hermione's dazed dreaminess falling to the floor, and she blinked back to a very disappointing reality. She knew now he only kissed her like that because the other girl had been watching. It was a matter of keeping up appearance, maintaining the illusion.
"Yeah," Hermione sighed dejectedly. "Lucky."
A/N: I survived one full week of full-time teachertude! There were no deaths, no blood, only a little vomit and just one potty accident. WIN!